


requisite of an inoculation

by Psuedorabbit



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, GoM - Freeform, KnB - Freeform, Kuroko no Basket - Freeform, M/M, Murasakibara Atsushi - Freeform, Sick Character, Yosen High - Freeform, generation of miracles - Freeform, himuro tatsuya - Freeform, knb gom, kuroko no basuke - Freeform, murahimu, murasakibara x himuro - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psuedorabbit/pseuds/Psuedorabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sick fic where momma himu takes care of sicky mura</p>
            </blockquote>





	requisite of an inoculation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crooked_pictures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crooked_pictures/gifts).



> prompt: Can I request a murahimu sickfic? You can decide who gets sick, but can there be a fever involved? Pls
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic babe, I thought about my own annoying ass when I'm sick and boom

The thermometer beeps once, twice, four times before it’s removed from Murasakibara’s mouth and held into the florescence of the bathroom light to be read more clearly. 102.3 degrees fahrenheit.

“Tat-chin, it isn’t a big deal. I can just sleep it off, don’t keep bugging me about being warm.” The annoyance in the giant’s voice would have made Himuro giggle any other time, but right now, he needed to put on his mommy apron and set some stern words in.

“Mura, if you don't get better, I can't kiss you, or else I'd get sick too. Then we'd be getting nowhere.” That seemed to do the trick, judging by the comical roundness in the giant's eyes, the pitiful whine rising from his throat.

Himuro was bluffing of course-- but his boyfriend didn't need to know that. He leans down to kiss his feverish forehead, a hand reaching up to stroke back slightly damp lavender locks.

“I think that may have been enough incentive for you. Now, I want you to sleep, and I'll wake you up when I've made lunch. Anything in particular you'd like?” Himuro always makes a task of asking Atsushi what he wants, rather than deciding for himself.

He's patient, knowing that if his suggestions weren't on Atsushi's palate, the man wouldn't eat it and request what  _ he _ wants rather than what they  _ both _ want.

The center guard makes a show of pondering an answer, lower lip jut out a fraction and his thin eyebrows knitted together. It amazes Himuro, the little things he does to amaze him.

“Teriyaki chicken and rice.”

“With or without stir fry?”

“Without.”

And that's how the evening went. Himuro humming to himself in the kitchen, a utility knife in one hand and raw chicken in the other. His bangs fall in his face, wrist rising up to knock the inky strands to the side to see what he's doing just a little better.

Eventually though, the solitude is creeping up the man's back, his mind wandering to his no doubt unconscious lover in the next room. How would he get him to take his medicine? Gods know how difficult it is for him to even eat lozenges. It has to be a particular brand and flavor, even  _ color _ , or else it's no good.

Maybe he could find some kind of pill to crush up and put in the giant's cake icing. Yes, that sounded easy. As his mind is wandering around a carefully planned out itinerary, the food is cooked and plated, sizzling and steaming as the few dishes are rinsed and put in the dishwasher.

He steps into the bedroom now, the curtains pulled together and blocking any sunlight. They were drawn before he put the giant to bed, Himuro recalls. He flips the light switch, which didn't even cause the man under the duvet to so much as flinch. The bed sinks and creaks quietly with the new addition to it, Himuro on his knees crawling towards his lover.

Only a nose and eyes are peeking from the dark fabrics, long eyelashes resting against slightly tinted skin under his eyes. The poor thing was probably more exhausted than he led on. Atsushi was more considerate than one would think.

He knew he was sick of course, but did he want Himuro to know? Absolutely not-- the man already doted on him for nearly everything, so wouldn't it be a bit much to be taken care of whilst sick? In his mind,  _ yes,  _ it is too much, and would be completely rational to reject all incantations of it. However, he wasn't complaining about the additional kisses to his aching joints and fleeting touches to his hair and shivering form.

Himuro settles down to lay face to face with Atsushi, a hand outstretched to rest comfortingly against his cheek. The pad of his thumb rubbed gently over the circles under his eyes, up around to his eyebrow bone and down the length of the bridge of his nose.

A soft sigh through a presumably congested nose and a grunt afterward woke the man from sleep, drowsy eyes opening a moment later.

“Tat-chin, I feel like I just went to sleep a few minutes ago.” The whine was hoarse, his condition only worsened in just over a half an hour. 

Himuro offers a smile, leans forward to kiss between his eyes. He's still burning up, yet, he's shivering. He needs to break the fever, eventually.

“The food is done, babe. Come on out to the kitchen, I've opened up the windows. Fresh air will do you good.” Another whine, followed by an aching fit of coughing. Himuro would need to take a trip to the store tonight, quickly.

“Come on, up,” he instructs, peeling away the sickly blankets from the equally sickly man beneath them.

“After you eat, I want you to take a cold shower.”

“But I'm cold.”

“No, Atsushi, you're hot.”

“Tat-chin, now isn't the time to flatter me.” 

Himuro's cheeks were colored pink now, clicking his tongue as he ushered the giant to move-- at his own pace of course, because he was sure the man was still aching.

Their lunch was mostly quiet, save for Atsushi's incessant sniffling and the clacking of forks on plates and yawns passed between them both.

Afterward, Atsushi was dismissed with a wave of a hand, Himuro insisting he should take his shower while he cleaned up. It wasn't much to do, and soon he was back in the bedroom, changing the bed sheets with new ones. It's mundane, the tasks he's busied himself with. It sucks to have your boyfriend sick.

By the time the bed was made and Himuro was getting comfortable in it, planning to nap with Atsushi, said man emerged from the shower with new clothes. His hair was towel dried and wavy, falling to his shoulders and causing wetness to bleed through the fabric of his shirt.

He's slow moving, Himuro notes, as he moves to the bed to crawl beside him.

“I still feel awful.”

“Come here.” 

Himuro finds his way over to the man under the blankets, his arms wrapped around his middle and their legs knocking into one another's to tangle.

“You'll get sick.” Atsushi murmurs, looking down his nose to stare into the very contented look in Himuro's eyes.

“No I won't. Now go back to sleep.” Himuro quips, his arms tightening around him. Well, there's no use for argument there, Atsushi thinks.

Long limbs are wrapped around Himuro now, cheek pressed against the top of his head.

It was moderately quiet now, until Atsushi breaks the silence.

“I know you're planning on sneaking me medicine, so you better make sure I can't taste it.” 

Himuro smiles, grins, giggles and laughs until his body is shaking a little against the hard frame of Atsushi's. The hilarity of the words didn't quite make sense to the giant himself, but then again, maybe Himuro was starting to get sick too. Maybe.

“Yes sir.” Comes a reply, followed by the comedown of laughter and gentle scrapes of dull nails on the curve of Atsushi's spine.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me at knb-garbage-writing.tumblr.com to request character x character stuff


End file.
